#AmericanWriters
XXII I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity.
76 Exultation is the going Of an inland soul to sea, Past the houses—past the headlands… Into deep Eternity—
408 Unit, like Death, for Whom? True, like the Tomb, Who tells no secret Told to Him—
711 Strong Draughts of Their Refresh… To drink—enables Mine Through Desert or the Wilderness As bore it Sealed Wine—
620 It makes no difference abroad— The Seasons—fit—the same— The Mornings blossom into Noons— And split their Pods of Flame—
After a hundred years Nobody knows the place,— Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace. Weeds triumphant ranged,
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading—treading—till it see… That Sense was breaking through— And when they all were seated,
385 Smiling back from Coronation May be Luxury— On the Heads that started with us… Being’s Peasantry—
437 Prayer is the little implement Through which Men reach Where Presence—is denied them. They fling their Speech
No matter—now—Sweet— But when I’m Earl— Won’t you wish you’d spoken To that dull Girl? Trivial a Word—just—
714 Rest at Night The Sun from shining, Nature—and some Men— Rest at Noon—some Men—
404 How many Flowers fail in Wood— Or perish from the Hill— Without the privilege to know That they are Beautiful—
847 Finite’—to fail, but infinite to… For the one ship that struts the s… Many’s the gallant’—overwhelmed C… Nodding in Navies nevermore’—
635 I think the longest Hour of all Is when the Cars have come— And we are waiting for the Coach— It seems as though the Time
There is another sky, Ever serene and fair, And there is another sunshine, Though it be darkness there; Never mind faded forests, Austin,